


make me feel like i am breathing

by ohmygodwhy



Series: hella criminal au [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, I did it again, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Build, just stealing rlly, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piper likes to steal and Jason likes to fly and Nico likes the feeling of Jason’s hand in his hair and the sound of Piper’s soft laugh. </p><p>Nico likes to feel like he belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make me feel like i am breathing

**Author's Note:**

> idk man

 

 

New York City is a very crowded place. It's bustling with people and life and busy busy business men, endless swarms shuffling through the city and up and down the sidewalks and somehow managing to live packed so close together it's almost suffocating.

And while Nico doesn't particularly like people or crowds, he loves it here, loves walking up and down the streets amidst the crowds because goddamn, there are so many people who are so distracted- looking at their phones or the people next to them or thinking about who knows what- that they hardly pay attention to the way their wallets or keys or phones or random belongings stick so obviously out of their pockets or purses. He loves the crowded streets of New York City because it's so ridiculously _easy_ to bump shoulders with someone and slip the contents of their pockets into his hand, mumble an apology and pluck it straight out from under their noses, feel the leather or cotton or plastic cool or warm against his fingers with the tiny rush of adrenaline, especially when it's some prissy man or woman that shot him a dirty look and he can feel the smug satisfaction knowing that they'll reach for their precious money later only to find it gone, many miles away in the hands of the grubby kid they glared at and- and-

And he loves and hates walking the streets of New York City, because it reminds him of floppy hats and smiles too much sometimes and he wonders what she'd think of him now- though she was the one who taught him the tricks and proper uses of jumpy fingers and how to blend in and slip away. He wonders if she's frowning at him from somewhere up in the sky, he wonders if there's anything up in the sky, and if there is, he hopes she made it there.

But Bianca's not around anymore and she can't stop him from doing what she taught him—

it got her killed; it landed him on the street; percy told him and then left him and it was percy's fault she was out there in the first place, his fault she met that stupid group of girls who wanted her to leave him, his fault that she did, his fault she got caught up in the middle of everything and wound up with a bullet in her chest and

\--she's not around anymore and so he has to make do with what has, which is his hands and his jacket and a little knife tucked safely in an inside pocket of that jacket. He makes do with what he has and what he has is little things taken from other people and it's really not his fault you know, people have to live and he has to live and the people he lives off of have enough to spare anyways so it's fine if some of it goes to buying dollar burgers eaten on some park bench or a night or two in a cheap hotel because he doesn't think he can stand another day of sleeping with the homeless park people or slumped against an alley wall.

And it's fine and good because he never takes too much and he never takes too little; he just picks people's pockets like a pro and maybe takes the occasion concessional item from the back of supermarkets- opens the bags and stuffs the contents into his pockets or rips the tags off of shirts with his teeth in the dressing rooms. He never does anyone any harm- and if he does it's self defense- he never hurts anyone so it's good and fine and he's 14 and he's surviving.

He's 15 when he's running low on life and everything that comes with it- at least he thinks he's 15, he's not really sure anymore. He's 15 and waiting in the shadows of an alleyway, avoiding the crowds and waiting for someone to come near enough- and when someone does it's a girl, probably older than him and probably pretty (though he's not really looking and it doesn't really matter) and he makes his move, stepping out to accidentally bump into her and brush his hand into her pocket. He has a hold on a wallet or something and is about to pull away when there's a tug on his wrist- he's pulled back and spun around and a moment later his chest is pressed against the dirty wall and his arm is twisted behind his back. The girl is smiling a sickly sweet smile dripping with smugness behind him and _shit._

"Going somewhere?" She asks innocently. Nico is grinding his teeth in frustration because this has never happened before- he usually manages to get away before it can, he darts this way and that and slips away from muggers or angry store owners- and he really doesn't have time for it.

So he stays quiet, settling on a glare, one of the ones he's practiced in the mirror and perfected over the years. She twists his arm a little bit more and he bites his tongue to keep from making any noise and she's about to say something else when someone else steps up to them, someone tall and unfamiliar and surprisingly bright for this part of town.

"Piper?" The someone asks, and his voice is clear and also very bright, "I got the... who's that?"

He seems to have noticed Nico, who is still pressed painfully and humiliatingly again the wall and he's suddenly very self-conscious about the circumstances and what he'd been trying to do and basically just existing. Piper, apparently, shrugs, and the movement presses harder on his twisted twisted arm and damn he hopes it doesn't sprain but it'll probably definitely bruise.

"Dunno. Tried to snatch my wallet- almost got away with it too." She says, far too casually. She gestures with a nod of her head to the bright blue wallet on the ground that fell out of his hand when she'd caught him.

The someone bends down to pick it up. "Really?" And he sounds surprised, almost impressed even.

"Really," Nico mutters, trying very hard not to taste the bricks because he doesn't have any water to wash it out with; he was gonna pick something up and go to the store and if it was enough, maybe rent out a room in the motel a few blocks down, the one that doesn't ask questions and serves waffles in the morning.

The someone turns his attention towards him (and there's that self-consciousness again that he feels way too often now and days). Nico has to crane his neck to see what's going on behind him, and what he can see is a guy a few years older than himself, with too-bright blond hair and too-bright blue eyes and a too-bright smile-- he's smiling at him, a smile Nico can't read and he's gotten very good at reading people, and he wonders why the hell a too-bright person like this is standing in a dark alley, smiling at a thief on the wrong side of town.

He thinks the someone really should be angry and not smiling, but people all have different ways of handling things, right? And so he sort of expects the question,

"What's your name?"

But he doesn't expect the tone- it's not accusatory, it's genuine curiosity, and Nico wants to get as far away from here as possible because genuine people never have happy endings.

"None of your business." He shoots back.

The someone seems to have expected that answer, and he shrugs.

"My name's Jason," he says, "And this is Piper." he gestures to the painful twisty arm girl. And people don't just give away their names out here and Nico is frustrated.

"That's _wonderful_ ," he glares at Jason as best he can, "But I have to go, so could you tell your friend I don't want her damn wallet?"

Piper laughs from behind him, "You could just tell me yourself."

"I don't want your damn wallet." He tells her himself, "Let go."

"I wanna know your name first," she says, and there's that genuine curiosity again and neither of them seem very angry and Nico is confused and _very_ frustrated.

"It's Nico," he grumbles, "Now get the hell off,"

"Since you asked so nicely," and then the weight is gone and he can feel his arm again and he twists around to face his oppressors (the too-bright smile guy and a girl that looks to be about Jason's age, pretty like he thought, with choppy hair ridden with little braids and eyes he can't see the color of in the dark), making a show of rubbing his wrist.

"So, Nico," Piper starts conversationally, propping herself up against the wall, "What's a kid like you doing down here this late at night?"

And Nico just glares some more because he hates being called a damn kid- it reminds him of _him_ and it reminds him of out of reach times.

"Other than being interrogated against my will?"

"You tried to steal from me," she points out, "I can ask a few questions,"

"What you can _do_ is-"

"I hate to cut this short," Jason interrupts, a little bit of _something_ shining in his eyes, "But we're gonna have some unwanted company here pretty soon."

Before Nico can open his mouth to tell the jerk that he _already has unwanted company,_ he hears the faint ringing of police sirens. And he notices for the first time that Jason is carrying a small black very suspicious duffle bag in his arms and shifting from foot to foot and both he and Piper look like they've just run a marathon or something and he blinks. Genuine people are not usually of the criminal type, y'know?

"Shit," Piper murmurs, but there's a small excited grin on her face. As if they've rehearsed this hundreds of times, the bag is shifted to Piper's arms and Nico's hand is taken hostage by Jason's with a quick “C’mon,” and the three of them are running within a matter of seconds.

And Nico doesn't have time to pull away and can't manage it anyway when he's being half-dragged along and the sirens are getting closer and if he gets caught running with these people he'll be charged as an accomplice, and if he gets caught alone he'll be recognized as the kid who almost got caught shoplifting and now that he thinks about it he has a few IDs on him that aren't his and—

\--and so he runs. Jason's hand is warm and steadying and he isn't sure why he's being pulled along with them but he takes it in stride, his feet hit the pavement hard and he'll get away from these odd genuine strangers later, when they're not being chased by the police for reasons he doesn't know, and he runs.

 

 

He learns over the next few days that Piper can talk her way out of impossible situations and Jason is a mixture of kindness and brutality that should be an impossible situation in and of itself. It should've been impossible for them to get in and out of a bank and make it far enough away to have half a conversation with a pickpocket, and it should've been impossible for them to be so incredibly friendly to someone who tried to steal from them (they hop into a dark red truck and speed onto the highway, Jason squeezes in between cars with a grin on his face that strikes Nico across his and makes its way down his spine and he points them to a trashy, out of the way hotel).

It should've been impossible to get any personal information out of him- he's had plenty of practice keeping his mouth shut and even more practice painting over truths, but they could always seem to tell when he was lying and the little eyebrow raise Jason would shoot him was enough to sink into his skin and loosen up his tongue a little.

So they wrench out his story little by little like yanking out rotten teeth at the dentist (he doesn't tell them everything because they're strangers, persuasive strangers, yes, but he's not about to spill his guts just because they smile at him like they give a damn), and he feels like he's being picked apart and put on display and he hasn't talked about any of this in a while, doesn't like talking about it-- dead mom, dead sister, father who couldn't care less if he’s dead or alive and probably doesn't lose any sleep wondering where he is; half sister he found a place for in the foster system that he couldn't bear being tied down to (he knows where she is and he sends what little he can spare to support her) and sticky fingers that he's lived off of for far too long.

And in exchange for his they tell him theirs- which he tells himself he doesn’t care about, he can’t care about things anymore because those all get taken away somehow, but he can’t help being a little curious.

Piper likes to steal things. She likes the rush of adrenaline in the action and the satisfaction of knowing she got away with it. She likes the wind in her hair as they speed away. She is also the daughter of a rich actor. Nico is shocked at first, and a tad bit envious that she has a warm place to go back to if she wants.

“No, no, it’s not like that,” she must have caught on to his apprehension, “I got shipped off ages ago- can’t have a rebellious kid getting in the way of his career and all.” She shrugs, tugging on one of her many braids and leaning back on her free hand, “Pretty sure it was all his assistant’s idea- that plotting witch. Landed in a rehabilitation center. Got the _hell_ out of there.”

So Piper lives on her own now, floating from place to place with Jason, and has no contact with her rich actor father, and says she doesn’t want to anyways- she doesn’t want to be around if he doesn’t want her around (a part of Nico thinks she misses him though, if his own experience is anything to go by). Knowing that she doesn’t rely on his money gives Nico a little more respect for her.

Jason likes to fly. He likes the thrill of the chase and the feeling of his feet leaving the ground and he likes fighting things sometimes. He was trained for it, a bit of it still runs in his veins, even though he left military camp ages ago. He likes flying and fighting and Piper has rubbed off on him a bit too, but he doesn’t like hurting people. He is the son of the CEO of a large company that has roots across the country.

“I was disowned,” he says casually, “Left at camp at first, disowned after I found my way back home and decided to have a mind of my own.”

Jason doesn’t like hurting people, which doesn’t fit well in the violent little world they live in. He doesn’t like hurting people because he watched his best friend (“Leo,” his voice is thick, “he was the most annoying guy on the planet; we loved him”), blow up in a factory explosion. He’s never killed, and Nico respects that. A little bit too much maybe, because he’s seen a lot of death in his time, he’s watched his sister bleed out and people stabbed for their purses.

Jason likes to fly and Piper likes to steal and Nico isn’t really sure what he likes anymore.

 

He eats like an actual person for the first time in as long as he can remember, three full meals a day for four days in a row and that’s the only reason he’s stayed in one place this long with the same people. His stomach is full of something other than cheap fast food and it’s something he can’t let himself get used to (when he digs in that first day, Piper looks at him with something he can’t place and Jason pushes some of the food on his plate over to Nico’s).

It’s the food and the fact that he’s not the one scrounging together the change in his pockets to pay for their room and their food (only one room and he sleeps on the little couch), because the money the duo got away with is enough to last them for probably a long time. So maybe he’ll stay until that money runs out, or until they tell him to leave, or until he gets tired of these genuine people and their smiles that make him feel like he might be worth something.

They talk about things a lot and he mostly just listens (he hasn’t had decent conversation with anyone other than a homeless man who lives with his cat in front of his third-favorite McDonalds), but when he does have something to say, they pay attention to it, even if it’s something stupid or rude—

(things like, “What kind of kid tries to eat a _stapler?”_ in between fits of laughter that he hasn’t let out in a long time,

or “I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s edible,”

or “Why the hell do you care?”

or “I’ve never read it before- or seen the movie,”

or “Why’d you bring me with you?”

or “How’d you guys meet, anyways?”)

\--and he’s not used to that so he thinks he should probably leave before he can start to care about these little things.

(They have answers to all of them except for the last two).

(He doesn’t have answers to any of their questions that aren’t about generalizations, doesn’t have anything to say when they ask his sister’s name or how he knows which stores take whatever you have and which ones call the cops on you).

 

 

(He is six years old when he meets his father for the first time. He has memories, sure, vague flashes of a tall man with dark eyes, but he’s never really _met_ him until now.

He’s not sure if his father likes him very much. He’s not sure if he likes his father very much either. But Mama’s eyes shine with a love rivaled only by the way she looks at he and Bianca, and so he knows his father is a good person if he means that much to her.

He’s six years old and really excited about everything- games and parks and the sky and the world and all the different people in it and his mother and sister and this new man who is his father and maybe now that he’s here he’ll teach him stuff fathers teach their kids, maybe he’ll stick around and make Mama happy some more.

He’s six years old when there’s an earthquake in Washington DC, bringing down dozens and dozens of buildings and bringing down the little house they’ve lived in for maybe a few years now because they’re pretty new to the country and everything, bringing down the walls and ceiling around him and bringing down the walls and ceiling on top of his mother.

He and Bianca are left remarkably unscathed, but the look his on his father’s face and the feeling in his chest make Nico wish that maybe it had been him instead of her. He thinks maybe his father wishes that too.

He’s fifteen years old when he wakes up panting heavily in a room full of genuine strangers in the middle of the night because he dreams about his mother and his sister. He wonders what kind of brother, what kind of son, what kind of person he is if he can barely stand to think about them without wanting to cry).

 

 

“Where are you heading after this?”

Nico looks up from the little box of tasteless chow mein he’s been twisting and untwisting around his fork rather than eating, to see Piper looking at him curiously with her oddly colored eyes- ever-changing, “like a kaleidoscope,” Jason had joked.

Jason looks up at the same time, a troubled look on his face like it never occurred to him that Nico would be gone in a few days, even though Nico had mentioned it repeatedly; he didn’t want to give them the wrong idea- he took things, yes, but he didn’t burden people. He didn’t burden genuine strangers who were becoming less of strangers, and more just straight up _strange._

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy what he could, though. That also didn’t mean he was an honest, good person who deserved to.

He shrugs, focusing back on the cheap takeout in his hand. The fork is black and plastic, and it doesn’t do its job very well- the noodles slip off easily and maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel like eating.

That, and his stomach is twisting like the noodles around the fork- he’s leaving soon, he’s been waiting to leave for the past five days, so he doesn’t know why he suddenly dreads ruining the days of prissy men and women by himself again.

By himself again.

“Somewhere not here?” he responds.

Jason hums, and Nico hears the bed creak as he probably leans forward on it. The guy slurps his noodles into his mouth instead of biting them like a normal human being, and Nico’s gotten annoyed with him about it at least three times by now. Not like it changes anything.

“You don’t have to leave, y’know,” the blond says, once he’s swallowed his food.

Nico looks up from the not-good-at-being-a-fork again, letting the surprise show on his face because Jason is surprising and he’s hardly surprised these days.

“Huh?”

“You could stay with us,” Jason sounds hopeful, but the cautious kind of hopeful- like he’s trying not to get his hopes too high or trying to sound nonchalant about it. It’s a tone he’s heard himself speak in one too many times, “If you want to,” he adds a moment later.

 Nico blinks, an eyebrow rising in confusion and maybe a little suspicion, “Why?”

And he really meant to sound uncaring, but it came out as curious. He hates sounding curious. It makes him sound like a kid. He isn’t a kid.

“Well, you don’t have anywhere else to go, right?” he starts, and Nico’s curiosity is crushed in nine little words and he doesn’t like pity.

“And neither do we,” Piper cuts in, and Nico’s eyes meet her kaleidoscopes in a guarded glare, “You’re not sure where you’re going next, and neither are we. You’re good at what you do, and so are we.” She takes a nice long sip of her soda, eyes never leaving his, “So why not all be unsure and skilled together?”

His glare settles and slips off, replaced by a cautious consideration and staying with the same people never really works out very well, it didn’t with Bianca and it didn’t with Percy and it sort of did with Hazel and so it probably won’t work out very well here. But the food is good and sleeping not on the floor for more than a few days is also good and trusting people might be pretty good too (not that he trusts these people yet; he can’t and he won’t). 

“What’s in it for me?” he asks finally, and Piper’s eyes can see right through him when people usually look away.

“You won’t be living off of people’s pocket change and coupons,” he searches for a shred of condescendence in her voice but he can’t find any, it’s just direct and offering, “you’ll be getting away with a _hell_ of a lot more than like thirty bucks at a time, and you can drive the truck.”

“I can drive the truck?” he glances at Jason, who isn’t really the rightful owner of the truck since they only payed for half of it, but he’s the one who drives it and treats it like a living breathing creature with a soul.

Jason nods slowly, like he’s considering all the future possible damage, “Sure, you can drive the truck. Sometimes.”

Nico drops the cold nasty takeout box onto the coffee table and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Summer is coming to an end soon and it’ll start to get colder and he hates the winter out here- the fall is fine, it’s pretty, he gets to visit Hazel sometimes in the fall, but he hates the winter; people are more desperate in the winter (and maybe if they were in the middle of winter right now he would’ve said yes immediately, pride and suspicion be damned)- and winter is not something he wants to experience outside and alone.

So he shrugs again, feeling their gazes on him, “Sure, why not,” he mumbles, and he thinks that Jason is probably smiling. 

He’s not sure why they care or want him to come with them and he’s not sure if he likes them yet and vice versa and they might be kidnappers but hey, it’ll be cold soon and he’ll get to drive the truck.

 

He realizes vaguely as he drifts off to sleep that night that he doesn’t know either of their last names, and they don’t know his. He finds an odd sort of comfort in that fact. They can’t sell him out completely.

 

 

He asks if they can head in the general direction of Louisiana- all he says when they ask why is, “my sister,” as if that explains everything. Apparently, in a way, it does.

(His half-sister Hazel is currently living in an over-loaded foster home in her hometown of New Orleans- her mother is dead, see, died right in front of her, died and left her alone and their father doesn’t seem to care very much; it must be a family trait. There are eight kids living in that house and none of them (with the exception of a Chinese-Canadian kid Nico’s met all of one times) are exactly nice to her. It’s not ideal and both he and her hate it, but he doesn’t have the money to get her out and he doesn’t want her to have to face a life on the streets either.

He visits her as often as he can, which varies on the year because he wanders around a lot; it’s easier than staying in one place and allowing everything to catch up with him).

Jason turns onto the highway and Piper cranks the radio and Nico stretches out in the backseat and mentally thanks them for not asking questions.

Almost 80% of the songs on the radio are horribly annoying and catchy in equal measures and Nico audibly complains about it about three hours in. Jason agrees with him, but also doesn’t turn it off, just lets Piper continue to flip through channels in a futile effort to find something decent.

“I don’t really like driving in silence,” he admits with an embarrassed little smile.

Nico just hums in reply, and doesn’t complain anymore. He gets it. Stupid lyrics are better than pounding quiet, probably.

They stop for the day at about six; the sun hasn’t set yet and probably won’t for a while but all three of them are restless as hell and Nico might’ve died of suffocation if he didn’t get out and walk around and stretch his poor little back.

They only get one room again because it’s cheaper, and with the cost of gas and snacks for the ride and what will probably be a night of over-used room service by a low-key excited Nico who has way too much fun with it and tries not to act like it, their money’s running low. Which is both a bad thing and an anticipated thing. But because none of them really want to make a ruckus with anything and don’t feel like staying here very long (sure, the people at the desk are nice, but they’re getting obviously annoyed with the number of times Nico’s asked for something outrageous), the 15 year old pulls his jacket tightly around his shoulders and throws a “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna steal your stupid truck. I’ll be back in a bit,” over his shoulder and shuts the door behind him.

(It feels oddly nice to know there are people waiting for him to get back. He decides to try and be a little quicker than usual. It’s just because he doesn’t know the area very well, that’s all).

He comes back an hour later with 168 dollars and 42 cents, the ID of an old guy with a bad haircut, and two paperclips, which he throws on the bed Jason’s spread out on and quickly excuses himself to the shower because he feels abnormally self-conscious about his nasty habit, even if he sort of did it for them anyways.

Piper jokes about how the old guy reminds her of her uncle and shoots him a smile and a quiet thank you before she throws a shoe at the light switch and the rooms flickers into darkness.

 

 

“You don’t talk very much, huh?”

It’s Piper’s turn to drive, and Jason shifts in his seat to look back at Nico, who’s lying with his hands behind his head and his feet against the window- also wearing no seatbelt because he can hear the voice of his step mother’s mother (his step-grandmother?) in the back of his mind telling him to “Always wear your seat belt- though you might slip out of it, you’re too skinny, here eat a ridiculous amount of disgusting cereal while I nag you about every aspect of your life”).

He cracks one eye open, sort of annoyed because he’d been trying to take a nap (he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night but he never really does; he has a reason to rest though, and he’ll take the opportunity).

“Maybe you just talk too much.” He shoots back.

Instead of getting offended, Jason just shrugs. “Maybe. I’ve met people who talk way more than I do, though. Like Piper,”

“Whatever, jerk,” Piper scoffs half-heartedly, “You should see him drunk,” it takes Nico a moment to realize she’s talking to _him,_ “It’s pure word vomit. Pretty embarrassing." 

Jason rolls his eyes, grinning, “Not as embarrassing as you are,” and presses a kiss to her cheek.

Nico focuses on the roof of the truck. It’s not really a public display of affection, since it’s just the three of them in their (Jason and Piper’s, he reminds himself) truck, but he’s not sure how to feel about it. They can do whatever they want, but he feels awkward watching, like he’s intruding somehow on something personal, even if it’s just a little kiss. He figured out about ten minutes into that first meeting back in New York that the two of them are a very long-term super into each other even if they don’t always show it thing.

He doesn’t care. He just sort of wishes he had someone like that.

Whatever. 

 

 

Nico knows the exact address of Hazel’s sort of not really her home, knows exactly how to get there and exactly the right thing to say when the foster parents (freakin drill sergeants, Hazel secretly calls them, with her watered down profanity) open the door and look at him with distaste and vague discomfort. They know who he is by now, but that doesn’t mean they let him inside the house or let Hazel leave with him for a while easily. He thinks a part of them think he might be a drug dealer or something. Wrong immoral act. Joke’s on them.

He asks Piper and Jason to wait in the truck, grateful when they agree automatically. He doesn’t tell them that, though, just nods and walks up the driveway to the house. It’s an old, rundown thing that could really use a visit from one of those home renovation shows, old and sort of big, but definitely not big enough to house eight kids of varied ages and two adults.

A little girl with two messy braids answers the door when he knocks and looks up at him nervously- he offers an awkward smile and she calls for her parents (she calls them by their first names, though) almost immediately. He tries not to be too offended, though he did forget to take a shower this morning; he probably looks like a zombie or something. It’s hard to get into a habit when you’re not sure how long you’ll have the access to it, though.

The woman comes to the door with a smile on her face- that quickly drops into something much less friendly when she realizes who it is. She doesn’t bother trying to fix her expression. He doesn’t bother attempting a smile either.

“Nico,” she greets uneasily.

“Miss,” he greets back. He doesn’t use her name. It probably annoys her- it’s sort of satisfying.

“I assume you’re here to see Hazel,”

“I am.”

The woman nods, and he can tell she wants to be out of his presence as soon as possible; it’s kind of funny, actually, how he has such an effect of her- he’s at least a foot shorter than her and who knows how many years younger.

Hazel’s walking down the stairs as soon as her name is called, looking tired and sort of nervous- he makes eye contact with her and then- “Nico!”-all of that disappears and she’s skips the remaining step in favor of jumping down and throwing herself at him, landing heavily in his arms and wrapping her own around him, _squeezing._

“Hey, Hazel,” he chokes out fondly through the crushing hug, bringing his arms around her in return.

She looks up at him, all wide accusing eyes and unbelievably happy smiles and sea of chocolate frizzy hair spilling over her shoulders and there’s a pang in his chest because she looks so _happy_ to see him and he should’ve visited sooner.

“Nico,” she breathes, “Why didn’t you come sooner? I’ve missed you,” and there’s a sadness in her voice and he smiles apologetically.

“I’ve been busy,” which is true, basically, “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you too,”

She buries her head back into his chest and drops his head onto hers, her hair tickling his face and she smells like cinnamon and old houses and _god_ , he’s missed her so much- it hits him hard, the way you don’t realize how long you’ve been without someone and the moment you see them it all comes rushing back and he sort of feels like crying, but he’s too old for that and so he leaves that to Hazel. Happy tears. His shirt’ll get wet but it’s fine.

He glances up and raises his eyebrows in silent question at the foster lady, who’s looking at them with a bit of affection in her gaze, like a mother probably would and he’s not sure how to feel about that; she nods in response and turns to leave- there’s a yell from upstairs and that’s definitely one of the younger kids. They go outside to sit on the front steps of the house, probably the one place they can be alone together in the crowded noisy house and it’s nice outside today, the front yard is nice.

He keeps his arm around her shoulder and she leans into him and he’s hit with overwhelming nostalgia. He’s missed this, he’s missed her, he wants to bring her with him, he wants to get her out of this goddamn house- she seems to notice his change in demeanor (she always notices these things) and she looks up at him.

“It’s alright.” She says, smiling softly, “You’re doing what you can. Only a few years till I’m old enough to leave.”

A few years is actually five years, five more years of being crowded and suffocating and teased for her dead mother’s old profession and the hesitant hopefulness in her eyes makes him want to punch something but all he can do is smile sadly back at her and brush the hair out of her face and press a kiss to her forehead.

“A few years,” he repeats. His face lights up a moment later, “Oh, right!” and he retracts his arm to reach into his jacket.

Every time he visits, he brings her something, or in this case, two somethings.

He pulls out a mini snow globe, a small Empire State Building standing proud inside of it, encased in glass and trapped- she’s not the one in the glass this time- and a pamphlet written for tourists, complete with a map and a million and ten pictures. He always gives her one, or maybe a map or pictures he takes with a disposable camera and wraps up in three layers of plastic wrap or something and carries carefully in his pocket. She likes them; she likes mapping out and dreaming about places she wants to go someday, places she will go someday, places he’ll take her someday and watch the awe on her face as she sees them in real life before her. And he tells her about all of them, leaving out the things he does most nights and other things she knows happens but doesn’t mention (both of them know not to), and focusing on the sights and the people and the feeling of it all.

She hugs him again, listens with rapt, excited attention to every word he says, tells him about school and the other kids and Frank, the Chinese-Canadian guy she likes so much- _likes_ so much, he gathers from the light in her eyes when she talks about how clumsy he is and how kind he is. Nico is sort of suspicious of the guy, sort of over-protective of his sister, and sort of incredibly happy that she has someone here who’s kind to her, who will protect her- even though she can defend herself fine. She deserves someone like that.

Nico’s pretty much forgotten about the dark red truck parked across the street and the people sitting inside of it until he hears the slam of a car door being shut and the both of their heads shoot up. The people that’ve driven him all the way here are walking hesitantly across the street and Nico glares at them in a way that hopefully gets his message across. If it does, they don’t react.

Hazel stiffens and glances at him nervously.

Nico sighs, “It’s fine. I know them,”

The tension leaves her body immediately and she actually stands up as they get closer. Jason introduces the two of them as “Nico’s friends,” to which Nico immediately announces as untrue.

Completely untrue. He met them in a dark alley and ran from the cops with them and stole from an old guy for them but they are not friends. He doesn’t make friends.

The three of them actually hit it off pretty easily, to Nico’s surprise- though maybe he isn’t really that surprised; they put up with _him;_ they could probably make friends with his stepmother if they tried, and Persephone was _impossible_ most of the time. And he can’t exactly tell them to back up and get back in the damn truck when Hazel looks so relaxed, looks so cheerful. Can’t tell them to leave he and Hazel alone when they’re making her laugh and smile and he can’t help but smile with them.

And he hasn’t felt this good in a long time. For a few moments, he can forget about everything, forget about the hole forever in his chest and the way Bianca smiled at him for the last time, forget about the stress and how cold it is at night. For a few moments he can feel like he’s at home, feel like a child again, he can laugh a little bit and cling to the warm feeling spreading through his body, focus on Hazel’s smile and Jason’s voice and Piper’s stories and for a few moments he can be happy.

He loves Hazel.

He really wishes she could come with them.

 

 

The robbery of a small gas station makes the news the next night.

Or rather, _they_ make the news the next night.

Piper’s restless hands and Jason’s need to run catch up with them, and they insist that Nico doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to, to which he responds with a scoff and a, “You said I could drive the truck.”

Their faces light up, and they look more like kids who just convinced their friend to come to a movie than a couple of teenagers about to rob a gas station.

So they fill up on gas, grab two backpacks Nico didn’t know they had from the trunk, and Jason and Piper head in, looking like a completely innocent very attractive couple. (He decides to ignore that last part).

They’re both wearing dark hoodies they’ll pull over their heads in the back of the store; they’ve had endless practice locating and finding the blind spots of security cameras- they won’t be caught on tape, and they won’t let the cashier see them either. A part of Nico can’t help but doubt them, but then he remembers what they got away with right before meeting him and the way they were completely calm about the whole thing. A part of Nico wants to trust them.

Nico himself sits in the drivers’ seat, fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel, tap tap tapping to the rhythm of a quick paced song his mother taught him that he thought he’d forgotten. He’s glad he hasn’t because it gives him something to focus on, something other than keeping his foot still and waiting over the gas pedal and his eyes trained on the grimy double doors.

Tap tap tapping and they’ve been in there for close to 8 minutes now.

Tap tap tap and now it’s nine minutes, nice minutes and six, seven, eight seconds.

Tap tap tap and it’s at nine and a half minutes when the doors are thrown open and out runs Piper, the hood pulled low over her face falling away and hair flying crazily after her, her eyes wide and shining with excitement and backpack slung over her shoulder. Her face is spilt with a smile and she waves at him and Nico grips the steering wheel tighter and he’s shaking with enough nervous energy to give a small child a heart attack.

A moment later Jason flies out behind her, his own bag hanging loosely in his hand, the small (fake, they’d assured him, used mainly for show, for scaring- though they did have a real one, for emergencies, but they haven’t used it yet) gun clutched in his other, and he wears an expression similar to his girlfriend’s.

Piper likes to steal and Jason likes to fly and in that moment they both look like they’re flying. In that moment, Nico can’t help the smile that forces itself onto his lips and the fluttering feeling in his stomach.

They clamber into the back seat with a frantic, “Go!” but Nico’s already slamming on the pedal and they shoot forward- he almost swerves off the road as he turns onto the street (he’s only actually _driven_ a car once or twice, and that was only for a little while, but he’s a fast learner and has great hand to eye coordination, okay).

“How much d’you get?” he yells over the roar of the engine, because he can’t help himself and he’s high on the thrill of it all.

“500 bucks and about half the damn store!” Piper yells back, and Jason unzips his backpack and flips it over to get the point across- Nico watches bags of chips and candy bars and bottles of everything he’s ever seen at a gas station pour out from the corner of his eye.

“God _damn,_ I’m staying with you guys forever!” It’s a spur of the moment thing and Nico can’t bring himself to care.

Jason ruffles his hair and Piper laughs, Nico’s nervous tapping stops and his smile widens.

Piper likes to steal and Jason likes to fly and Nico likes the feeling of Jason’s hand in his hair and the sound of Piper’s soft laugh.

Nico likes to feel like he belongs.

 

 

(Nico is ten years old when he meets Percy Jackson.

He and Bianca are far away from their father by now- they ran away when they realized a part of him blamed them for their mother’s death. They ran away when they realized how empty everything was without her. Their father doesn’t dial 911 when he realizes they’re gone.

He’s ten years old and a little bit humbled but still has a hold on enough of his childish optimism to be just as excited about everything. Excited and curious- about the people who live in cardboard boxes and the ladies who wear short dresses and lean against the walls near the roads and the tricks Bianca shows him, how to smile at someone and slip a hand into their pocket at the same time and how no one will notice what you’re doing if you do it right.

He’s a little bit dirty and a little bit hungry, but still excited. Still curious. Still happy.

He’s ten years old when Percy Jackson steps in front of them in the middle of a mugging. He wrestles the gun out of the scary man’s hand and a moment later the man is lying unconscious on the ground. Percy smiles at him with a twinkle of pretty, _very_ pretty, sea-green eyes and offers them a place to sleep and a meal to eat with a pretty girl named Annabeth and a guy who looks vaguely like he’s high on something and really likes burritos.

He’s ten years when he realizes he has a crush on Percy Jackson.

He’s ten years old when the girls- the _Hunters_ , Percy likes to call them, hunters who steal away sisters and get them to leave little brothers behind, show up and do just that. It’s not a _gang,_ really, except it sort of is, run by an intimidating woman who calls herself Artemis, and they’re a dangerous group of people.

Full scale operations and huge profits. Real weapons and real danger.

He’s ten years old when Bianca dies. He follows Percy, who follows the girls on one of their ‘ _quests’_. He follows Percy, who doesn’t jump in front of anyone this time, who doesn’t save Bianca this time. He follows Percy, who, along with a girl named Zoe, drags a wounded Bianca out of the line of fire and finishes the job without her, saying they’ll be back, saying they’ll save her.

He’s ten years old when he watches Bianca die. He sits next to her and she smiles at him and she tells him that she loves him and that she’s sorry and Percy and Zoe and Artemis don’t come back.

He’s ten years old when he’s left alone in the world.

He’s still fifteen years old when he watches the headlights of countless cars pass by from the back of seat of an old red truck, fifteen years old and eating a Twix bar and he hasn’t had one in a long time. Percy gave him a Twix bar once, when they went to the store to get food for the second dinner they all had together. Nico feels sick. He doesn’t finish the Twix bar.)

 

 

They meet Reyna on the coast of Florida. Really, _Nico_ meets Reyna on the coast of Florida; she and Jason are apparently old military camp buddies. She and Piper have also met, if only briefly.

Reyna is intimidating and radiates an aura that demands total respect and submission, tall and pretty with dark hair drawn back in a braid and eyes that seem to see into his heart and soul and make him vaguely want to run away.

The things he learns about Reyna include: she is from San Juan, where she used to live with her sister and her father; her sister now works at the actual Amazon factory in Seattle- she doesn’t say what happened to her father; she met Jason at the dreaded military camp- Camp Jupiter, she says; she left after rising in the ranks and eventually becoming more skilled than the director himself; she is a badass. She’s also very good friends with a short, angry man in his late thirties or early forties, who likes hitting things with baseball bats and yelling at people.

His name is Coach Hedge, but none of them know what exactly he coaches.

Reyna also runs an extensive underground network with their hands in pretty much everything. Information and money and all types of businesses, all with the snap of her finger. She could _ruin_ someone if they got on her bad side.

Nico learns he never ever wants to get on Reyna’s bad side.

Nico also learns, as the four of them are sitting on the beach one night (Jason insisted she come with them, spend a day out and relax for a bit) that she is very lonely and very stressed. He catches her looking at Jason, who’s caught in an animated conversation with Piper about the difference of astronomy and astrology, and sees a look on her face he’s far too familiar with. It’s the same look a younger Nico would wear when he watched Percy Jackson smile and laugh and kiss Annabeth, a look he learned to mask and bury deep deep under his skin.

She catches him looking, and for a moment he thinks this might be the last moment of his life. But all she does is coolly reign in her expression, nod to him once and take a seat beside him. He thinks for a second time that yeah, this is definitely the last moment of his life, but all she does is stare at the water with him.

He thinks the silence tells him a lot about her.

“His name was Percy,” he says after about fifteen minutes or so, quietly, very quietly- quietly enough that she could pretend she didn’t hear it if she wanted to.

Instead, she raises her eyebrow a centimeter and glances at him for a moment, before returning her gaze to the ocean.

“What happened to him?” she asks, just as quietly, and he’s surprised to find that there’s no roughness in her voice, no judgment either.

Nico shrugs, “He promised me something he couldn’t keep, and then he left.”

Reyna hums softly, if only to let him know she heard, “I’m sorry,” is what she says, softly, very softly, and he’s glad she didn’t press for details. He knows she’s not that type of person.

“Nothing to do about it now.” He hesitates, “People don’t notice things, and it hurts others sometimes. Moving on is hard.” He licks his lips nervously, “But it’s always possible.”

He’s surprised himself at the sheer positivity of his words. He is not a positive person. Reyna glances at him sidelong, as if deciphering a puzzle. After a moment or so, she nods.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Thank you,”

It’s Nico’s turn to raise his eyebrows. He doesn’t say anything though, just turns to look back at the ocean. And they talk. It’s slow, and hesitant and there are long pauses and carefully chosen words in between, but they talk. They talk about how Reyna’s mother left and she had to kill her father when he became too abusive, how she didn’t mean to, but she did it. They talk about the earthquake in DC and the bullet that ended Bianca’s life, about how Hazel is trapped in a glass snow globe like the Empire State Building. They talk about Percy and they talk about Jason a little. Reyna looks at him curiously when he mentions Jason’s love of flying and how Piper helps him do it, how he sort of wants to fly too, even though he’s never ridden in a plane before and the thought terrifies him. And they talk.

By the end of the night, Reyna is a sister to him and he is her friend and he feels infinitely lighter.

 

 

They decided to head to California, because winter’s started full force and they’d rather spend it somewhere not as cold. Nico’s never been there, and he wants to get a map for Hazel. Maybe take some quality pictures with an actual camera if he can. They’ll stop probably a lot along the way there, but California is the goal.

They’ve set up a long-term plan here, and Nico isn’t sure what to think about that.

 

 

They spend the rest of the winter and a good half of spring traveling slowly and lazily through Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. It’s in Arizona, late on a Tuesday night in Phoenix, that they nearly die.

Granted, it’s not the first near death experience for any of them, but it’s still terrifying and exhilarating and _terrifying._

It’s another bank this time, at least two weeks’ careful planning and scoping out the area and potential danger of the whole thing- very dangerous, probably, but none of them could really bring themselves to care. They should’ve, they really should’ve, when there are more people than they expected there to be on a goddamn Tuesday at two in the morning, they should’ve when one of them manages to hurriedly call the police and there’s an unreasonably fast response time in this part of town and the three of them are running, Nico’s feet are hitting the ground harder than they ever have before and his heart threatens to beat up and out of his chest with every step—

there are gunshots firing behind them and Piper yells something about splitting up and turns sharply and then she’s out of sight; Nico’s a little bit faster than Jason, who’s still running after him regardless of Piper’s suggestion and frankly, Nico’s glad for it- he doesn’t wanna be out here running by himself.

And all he knows is that one moment they’re running for their lives and there are bullets raining behind them and they’re twisting and turning through alleys and dumpsters, and the next moment Nico’s pressed up against the wall with Jason’s mouth on his and he can’t breathe and his heart is still racing and holy _shit,_ they’re alive.

They’re remarkably, miraculously, beautifully alive. Nico can feel Jason’s heartbeat and ragged breath and they’re _alive_. Alive alive alive.

Time and the need for air catches up with both of them and Jason pulls back with a look on his face Nico can’t read, face flushed and eyes wide and a moment later he’s leaning back in and Nico meets him halfway. His hands find their way to Jason’s hair while Jason’s find their way to his waist and he can’t stop himself from shaking because he had _felt_ a bullet graze his shoulder and he’s still standing here- Jason is still standing here, standing close close close and he thanks his lucky stars and every god he can think of and hangs on for dear life because _god,_ they’re _alive._

And then Jason’s being pulled away- Nico’s eyes snap open and his hand flies to the knife in his pocket before he sees familiar braids and the jacket she was wearing earlier and he stops short, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Piper is alive, alive and kissing Jason with the ferocity and desperation Nico was feeling a moment before- is still feeling. And he feels like throwing up for forgetting about her even for a moment. And then kissing the life out of her boyfriend.

He takes a shaky breath and then Piper’s eyes are on him, her hand still gripping Jason’s shirt and she _smiles,_ all relived eyes and soft affection. A small, gentle kiss is pressed to his cheek and then she grabs both of their hands and they’re running again— _flying_ again, flying across the ground, they’re _flying_.

There’s a sharp, adrenaline fueled laugh that echoes through the air- Piper’s smiling the same smile she wore the night he met her, the same glinting eyes- and by the time they make it three blocks down and clamber into the old red truck, the three of them are laughing like they’ve never laughed before.

Nico is laughing and gleeful and still slightly terrified and he’s think he might pass out from air deprivation or be crushed under the weight of Jason and Piper’s hug and he’s not sure what exactly he’s laughing about and he’s never been happier to be alive.

 

Nico doesn’t know what to say the next morning when he wakes up sandwiched between two very asleep teenagers, all of them still fully dressed in hoodies and pants and they’re in the backseat of a truck in Arizona in the middle of the day- they’re basically sleeping in a giant oven and everything’s sweaty and groggy and he’s laying in between Jason and Piper, _cuddled up with them_ and he freezes.

He doesn’t know what to say when an asleep Jason mumbles something incoherent and pulls him a little bit closer, one arm slung across his chest and gripping Piper’s hand- who’s fingers are knotted in Nico’s hair, like she was running them through it before she fell asleep and maybe she was. The thought makes him feel incredibly embarrassed and also buries itself in the pit of his stomach and settles there.

He doesn’t know what to say when the two of them wake up a little while later (he hadn’t wanted to get up and risk waking them up, even though he’s pretty sure he’s being roasted from the inside out in all theses layers and limbs), and smile at him gently and happily and he’s reminded suddenly and violently of last night, of the alley, of the kisses and laughs and he really doesn’t know what to say.

So he just doesn’t say anything. Just shrugs when Jason offers breakfast a few towns over and Piper asks if he’s okay. He’s not really sure about that last one.

He’s not sure why neither of them are angry with him. He’s not sure why they look at him like they care about him. All in all, he’s just not really sure about anything at the moment. This morning is a very confusing point in time for Nico.

Probably a confusing time for all three of the people in that little red truck.

 

He pretends not to notice identical concerned gazes on him as he picks uninterestedly at his pancakes. They’re sitting at a corner booth in a Dennys in Prescott, Nico on one side of the table; he’d insisted he sit by himself, and that he’d pay for the meal. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to, but he did, and they let him.

“So, Nico,” Piper starts, propping her head up on her hand, “What’s a kid like you doing in here at this time of day?” it’s a reference to that night, almost a year ago, in that New York City alley- one of the first things she ever said to him. He really can’t deal with that kind of reminder right now.

“Don’t call me a _kid,”_ he responds, voice harsh, and he drops his fork onto the table with a clang. Both of them flinch, and his veins flood with guilt immediately; his gaze drops to the pancakes that’ve been picked apart and reduced to an unappetizing mess.

“Sorry,” Piper murmurs, sounding genuinely sorry. Genuine strangers. Not strangers anymore. Nico’s screwed up bad, hasn’t he?

“Sorry,” Nico repeats, running a hand through messy hair that needs to be reacquainted with shampoo again sometime soon.

He feels rather than sees Jason slide into the booth next to him- he smells like the inside of the truck and the endless road. There’s a brush against his hand and Nico has to try very hard to keep from flinching away. Jason lifts his hand, bony and small in his firm, calloused one, and brings it briefly against his lips- Nico’s head shoots up and he looks around quickly, making sure no one saw and,

“What the _hell?”_ he hisses, yanking his hand away. Jason looks like a kicked puppy and Nico hates that look.

Piper reaches across the table and gently takes hold of his other hand and Nico does jump this time. He glares at her, and she takes his glare in stride and stares back, softly, softly and Nico once again does not know what to say.

“It’s okay, Nico,” she says quietly, reassuringly.

“What are you-?”

“You like Jason, right?” she asks bluntly, and both he _and_ Jason flinch this time. Nico doesn’t know what to say for like the thousandth time today and Piper obviously takes his silence as a conformation.

Her lips pull up into a small smile, “I like Jason too,” she says simply, like it solves everything.

“I _know_ that,” he says finally, “And _he_ likes _you,”_

Piper nods. He’s feeling as frustrated as he was back when he was pressed against the wall with an arm twisted behind his back.

“So why aren’t you mad or something?” he asks, almost desperately.

“Because Jason likes you too,” she says, and there’s that ‘this sentence is the answer to everything’ tone again.

“What?” Nico blinks, “No he doesn’t.”

“I sort of _do,”_ Jason says, and Nico’s head snaps to the side so quickly he might get whiplash.

“What?” he asks again.

Jason shrugs, “I’m pretty sure Piper likes you a little too,” he says, so _casually_ it makes Nico want to slam his head against the table because this isn’t something that should ever be the topic of a conversation.

“Yeah, I sort of do,” Piper says, repeating Jason’s words.

“What?” is all he can seem to say, and his gaze is bouncing between the blond next to him and the girl across from him and yeah, he really doesn’t know what to say.

“So it’s okay,” Jason says gently, taking Nico’s hand again, “It’s okay,”

“B-but…”

“It’s okay,” Piper agrees, giving his hand a small squeeze from across the table.

“It’s okay?” Nico asks dumbly, because that’s all his mind can find to say.

Piper smiles, “It’s okay.”

It’s okay.

Okay. 

 

 

(Nico is fourteen years old when he almost dies for the fifth time.

He’s fourteen years old, and in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s fourteen years old, and is shoved against a dumpster by one of two identical men, _giants,_ is what he thinks as his head hits the metal- _hard._

He’s fourteen years old, frantically searching his pockets for something with some sort of value to give to the giants- who have a knife out and pressed against his neck and he feels like crying because he _doesn’t have any money,_ doesn’t have anything on him other than the floppy green hat he keeps wrapped up tightly in the pocket of his jacket, and the pictures of Boston he took for Hazel, but there’s no way in _hell_ he’s giving those things up. No way in hell. He also has a few pomegranate seeds in his back pocket, but he doubts they’ll do him any good here and now.

He’s fourteen years old and he’s suffocating, lifted off of the ground with his back digging into the rough brick wall behind him, kicking wildly and clawing and the hand around his throat and he’s suffocating. He’s suffocating and he’s going to die he’s going to _die die die_ and he’s vision is blurring and he’s going to die.

He’s fourteen and someone’s yelling, (“That’s a _kid!_ He’s killing a _kid_!”), and then he’s on the floor, clutching at his chest and coughing and trying to fill his lungs with air again and he’s not dying anymore. The two men are arrested and Nico is up and running away, still coughing and sputtering for air, before the officer can turn to ask him his name and why he’s out here and a million other questions that he can’t answer.

He’s fourteen and he’s chocking back tears in a Walmart bathroom because there are bruises on his neck the size of beefy fingers and he almost died.

He’s fifteen- or maybe sixteen now, who knows- and he’s clutching at his chest again, screaming silently for someone to _help him dear god_ , in a dark room full of genuine not-strangers and he’s alive, they tell him, _it’s alright, it was just a dream, he’s alive, he’s alive, it’s alright, we’re right here we’re right here—_

_we’re right here.”_

He’s maybe sixteen and he believes them.)

 

 

Piper Mclean and Jason Grace.

They tell him their full names one day. Nico’s taking a turn in the passenger’s seat, air conditioning on full blast and blowing his hair back. He’s surprised and very honored at the gesture.

“di Angelo,” he tells them a moment later. “Nico di Angelo,”

Jason smiles at him from the driver’s seat, extending a hand without taking his eyes off the road. “Nice to meet you, Nico di Angelo.”

Nico smiles, and shakes the hand.

 

 

He’s maybe sixteen and he’s watching the person he loves die.

He’s maybe sixteen and Jason is maybe eighteen by now, maybe eighteen and strong and kind and dying in front of him, dying in his arms, he’s maybe eighteen and he can’t die yet because he’s going to grow to be at least eighty- he’s told him before, Jason’s said that’s how old he plans to be, at _least_.

Eighteen is not eighty and Jason has a bullet in his chest.

Nico’s not even startled by the realization that he _loves_ Jason, he loves Jason and he can’t loose someone he’s just started to love. It’s not fucking fair and he won’t let it happen.

(They should’ve been more careful, dammit. It was Arizona all over again, except this time they weren’t fast enough. They finally made it to California, finally finally made it to California and Nico had bought and actual camera and used it to take a picture of the three of the standing on the beach together. He’d bring Hazel here someday, but right now the best thing he can do is take pictures for her.

They made it to California low on gas and money and everything money buys, and it was Arizona all over again. They’d rented out a hotel room before the fact, and they just manage to drag a bleeding Jason into the car and get him into the room to the bed (they have a room on the first floor thank god, and there’s no one at the front desk this late at night). And then Piper’s wiping tears out of her eyes and sobs out something about knowing a doctor nearby and she’s gone, footsteps echoing and fading away and Nico has never felt more helpless).

And he can’t breathe because shit shit shit shit there’s a lot of blood and a bullet lodged too deep, deep deep deep in Jason’s chest and it’s Bianca all over again- he’s bleeding bleeding bleeding out in front of him and he can’t _breathe._

“Shit, Jason, shit,” is all he can say, over and over again like a broken record. He pushes down on the wound as hard as he can like he’s seen on TV shows and that’s how it works, right? Pressure? He just knows he has to stop the bleeding and where the _hell_ is Piper?

Jason’s breath is ragged and his heart is beating too fast and his eyes are unfocused.

“Shit,” Nico murmurs for the thousandth time, one hand coming up to brush lightly along the older boy’s cheek because he’s too afraid something else will happen if he touches too much or lets go.

And then Piper’s bursting through the door like a goddamn knight in shining armor, dragging a blond stranger (“Will,” is what he says his name is but Nico’s not really listening) behind her, who must be some sort of angel because the bullet’s on the floor and Jason is stitched up and drowsy from painkillers before Nico can get his heart rate back down.

Piper is a solid presence by his side and she’s shaking just as badly as he is— and he doesn’t say anything when she wraps her arm around his and they shake together, hopeful and terrified because their anchor is half-dead and beautiful lying before them and they have nothing else to cling to.

Nico doesn’t let go of her until Jason wakes up a day and a half later.

He doesn’t let go of Jason either.

He’s tied down now and all he can be is grateful that they’re all alive.

 

 

So they’re a lot more careful now. They stick to small stores or gas stations, and they don’t take too much, they don’t take enough or make a big enough disturbance to catch the media’s attention, and they never hit the same place twice.

It takes Jason a while to heal and they stay in that little hotel until he does- Nico doesn’t leave his side until he’s basically dragged into the bathroom and told to take a shower and relax for a moment, though Piper’s just as bad.

They watch an unhealthy amount of TV in that little hotel room; they tell stories until Jason falls asleep.

Nico tells them about Bianca. He tells them about her smile and eyes and how she’d ruffle his hair and humor him and his childish games. He tells them about his mother, her dark hair that tickled his face when she hugged him, about the way she would sing to him when he couldn’t sleep. He tells them about his father, about his harsh features and how drastically he changed after their mother died. He tells them about Percy Jackson and how he ruined his life for a little while. He tells them about almost dying and he tells them about sailing across the ocean from Italy to America. He tells them about being terrified of himself and how he’s never felt more loved and safe and happy than he does right now, with them.

His stories are all over the place and broken and he cries during a few of them and he’s pretty sure this was not supposed to turn into ‘all about Nico’ time, but they listen and they hold him and they kiss him and they love him.

And for the first time in a long time, he lets himself take something he _wants_ instead of needs. He lets himself relax, and take the people wrapped around him as they are.

 

 

Nico takes so many pictures it fills up the camera- pictures of Jason and Piper and the ocean and the weird food and the old buildings, and he lets them take pictures too, pictures of him and of funny signs and odd people.

Hazel is overjoyed; she flips through the camera with a smile that fills Nico with warmth.

She takes one look at the three of them sitting so close together and says, “If you hurt Nico, you won’t die quickly,” she then smiles at their expressions and adds, “I’m happy for you, big brother.”

 

He gets little jobs here and there as they wander. It’s a little safer than pulling hoods over their faces and waving around a fake gun.

That’s not to say they drop their habits completely.

Nico takes walks sometimes and returns with a little too much cash and other weird things people keep in their pockets. He finds a coupon for a water park in Washington once. He’s not ashamed to say they drove all the way there. It was definitely worth it.

 

(He’s still not sure exactly what they are, relationship-wise. But he’s loved and he loves and he guesses that’s probably all he really needs to know).

 

New York City is a very crowded place. It's bustling with people and life and busy busy business men, endless swarms shuffling through the city and up and down the sidewalks and somehow managing to live packed so close together it's almost suffocating.

And while Nico doesn’t particularly like people or crowds, he loves it here, loves walking up and down the streets with a hand in the hand of a tall guy with a too-bright smile or a girl with kaleidoscope eyes, loves visiting the dirty old alley ‘where it all began,’ Piper jokes. He loves laughing with the two people that he loves as they run with everything they have.

Piper likes to steal and Jason likes to fly and Nico- Nico likes to drive, likes to laugh and to run and to take pictures and wake up sandwiched in the middle of two very asleep teenagers.

Piper likes to steal and Jason likes to fly and Nico likes to feel like he belongs. 

And he belongs.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the sound of my ot3 heart
> 
> i've been watching too many crime shows tbh, but i got super excited about this idea and went into overdrive for like a day and a half and???
> 
> i'm not sure how well it turned out as a whole and i've never written smth this long before, but i had a lot of fun writing it
> 
> also don't steal, kids


End file.
